When You're Ready
by Autumn Moon Fae
Summary: Mithian returns to Camelot to represent Nemeth at Gwen's coronation. As she helps Gwaine recover from Morgana's physical and psychological damage, Morgana and Lot are conducting raids on her country's border towns - and Nemeth is the perfect stronghold from which to conquer Camelot once and for all. Update: Chapter 4 is up!
1. Guinevere, Queen of Camelot

**OK.**

**I'm really not sure about this.**

**So, a couple of days ago I had the not-so-brilliant idea that Gwaine should fall for Mithian, because Mithian's a character I feel deserves more attention. Then, of course, I had to read up on her kingdom, and had a couple more not-so-brilliant ideas, and came up with this. I don't think anyone's ever done Gwaine/Mithian before, but hey. **

**Here's the first and most useless chapter. See what you think.**

* * *

Morgana was riding hard and fast. She'd stolen a horse in Ealdor – she couldn't get far walking with those cursed injuries, and haste was needed if she could act before they expected it.

She was heading towards Essetir. Lot's kingdom.

* * *

_She stood under the shadow of the doorway, not wanting to be seen. Despite Arthur's outward kindness, the rest of the court – especially the knights and most of all the king's manservant, Merlin – were chilly if not openly hostile. It had something to do with Guinevere, the almost-Queen. She'd guessed that Arthur was missing her, that he was still hurt by her betrayal. _

_And here was the evidence._

_Arthur sat at the throne at the high table, his head resting on his hand as he stared into his wine. He looked miserable. Merlin was leaning on the wall, watching him. The knights were scattered around the rest of the table and the food that was left from the feast. Most of the other nobles had left already. _

_But these men weren't nobles… At least, most of them weren't. Her father had ranted for days about King Arthur's naiveté: 1. how he couldn't trust commoners, 2. how he had knighted commoners, 3. how some of those commoners had been banished from his country, 4. but he had done it, and 5. didn't anyone do background checks on their knights nowadays?_

_Of course, Guinevere's crimes had caused her another week of listening quietly to the ignorance of her future husband. Not to mention how her father had, of course, known all along that "something like this would happen."_

_She didn't see the problem. Her father's own nobility weren't people she could trust. Alone in her room in Nemeth, bathed in the shaft of sunlight shining through her window, she'd turned the dull news and angry lords into a romance worthy of a song. She had been sure that Guinevere was beautiful beyond compare, gentle, gracious. King Arthur was caught by her sweetness and acceptance of hard life. She'd envisioned a story for how the two must have met; how they were crowned King and Queen and lived happily ever after. _

_She was shocked when the girl of her imagination betrayed the King and was banished from her would-be kingdom, on pain of death._

_And then…then, she'd had to marry Arthur._

_She studied the melancholy king from where she stood on the threshold, just outside the lights of the feast. She had dreamed that Arthur would be a hero out of an old legend. She'd been excited to meet him, determined to take courage and be a Queen to him, to glide by any difficulties they had with the grace her noble blood had given her._

_But there had always been that cold flower of regret for the girl who should have been standing in her place._

_There was a tap on her shoulder, and she whirled around. No one would dare to touch a princess like that._

_It was a knight. She racked her brains to remember his name. She'd been introduced to everyone at the beginning of her stay, and had lists to study in Nemeth…but no, she'd forgotten. After all, lists didn't connect to faces._

_Fortunately, she was spared when the man gave her a deep bow. "Evening, Princess. I'm Gwaine."_

_Unsure what to do, she nodded._

"_Forgive me, I saw how lovely your hair was and wanted to see if your face would match."_

_Everyone at the court had seen her when she arrived. She raised her eyebrows. "And does it?"_

_Gwaine stopped, considering. "Almost."_

_She flushed and opened her mouth, but he stopped her. "Your hair _is _very beautiful." _

_Shaking her head, she watched the knight enter the hall. _

"_I miss dinner?"_

"_It wasn't much," said the dark-skinned, dark-eyed one – Elyan, Guinevere's brother. "Quiet." He shrugged. "Boring."_

"_Probably 'cause I wasn't there." Gwaine smirked as he dropped into a chair. "Come on, she's prettier than Gwen by a long shot."_

_Both Arthur and Leon raised their heads to shout "Gwaine!" while she blushed even more._

"_Okay, princess. Relax." She turned before she heard the King's groan and realized that he was referring to Arthur. Oh. She heard her father's comments about decorum and knighthood in her head and smiled to herself. "So, I miss dinner?"_

"_There's still some ale left though," Elyan said, grinning. _

"_I'm surprised." As Gwaine turned to nick Arthur's wine, the jug of ale in his other hand, he noticed her still standing there. He waved the jug at her. "There's ale. You should be in here with us."_

"_Gwaine," Arthur moaned, finally roused from his lethargy. "You stopped by the tavern after your patrol, didn't you?"_

"_Why else would I be late for dinner? I'm the model of punctuality." _

"_You know the only reason you got the night patrol was because you skipped that training session for the tavern…"_

_She felt like she needed to give a reason for being there, as if she'd been caught in the act of spying on them when all she really had was a rising sense of despair. "I couldn't sleep," she muttered. "I was looking for the physician's apartments to get a sleeping draft."_

_Arthur pushed himself up. "It's alright, Mithian. I'll show you."_

_Mithian managed a shaky smile before falling into step behind him, leaving the hearth and the candlelit table where the knights still sat, watching them go._

And now she was coming back.

Mithian glanced up at Camelot's guards, who bowed their heads to let her and the ten soldiers accompanying her through the gates. Last time she entered these walls, she remembered, she was wearing wedding riches: furs, a lace veil, a long gown of pristine white. Now, she was wearing only a simple red traveling dress and – her father's gift – a soft mahogany-colored cloak lined with creamy satin.

After seeing Arthur slip out from under the bonds of life as a noble in the pursuit of his love, she'd started making herself freer. She took more of Nemeth's affairs into her own hands, rejected her suitors and was able to look her father in the eye afterwards. And now, he had wanted her – no, he had asked her – to go to Camelot as the official representative of Nemeth at Guinevere's coronation.

The city had changed since she last saw it. She noticed the print of black smoke clouding the walls and the dark trampled pennants in the dirt. But there were flowers there too, and garlands of leaves. People lined the streets wearing their best clothing and bells were ringing somewhere in the castle. She could feel the joy in the air. Queen Guinevere was much beloved.

Mithian swung off her horse and stepped into a deep curtsy. Looking up, she saw Arthur, crowned and red-caped. He looked much the same as he had before, except that he was radiating excitement instead of reluctance. The king could barely keep the boyish smile off his face long enough to welcome her to Camelot. She bowed her head demurely while he escorted her in as he had the other guests, then took her seat and waited.

There were representatives from Queen Annis of Caerleon, Lot's Kingdom, and even Bayard – though she noticed many eyeing the last two with obvious suspicion. Apparently no one would miss the Queen's coronation. Mithian turned her dark-eyed gaze to the people she remembered from her time in the castle.

Merlin was near the front, beaming. Her lips twisted wryly: of course, this was what he had wanted. The knights were near Arthur: Percival talking to Leon; Elyan grinning at Merlin even though he looked as if he hadn't slept in ages; Gwaine sprawled in his chair with his hair covering his face, his skin unusually pale.

Gaius, the physician Arthur had introduced her to, stood nearby, smiling at the King and raising his eyebrows at Merlin. From time to time Mithian caught him shooting glances at the Knights, which was odd, but perhaps they had been wounded in the battle…Yes, that would be it.

Her eyes aimlessly wandered the ranks of nobles – the court Arthur had inherited from his father. In true Uther allegiance, some looked disapproving; others, angry. Only a few whimsical ladies seemed to approve of the new Queen.

Finally, the trumpets sounded and the doors were flung open. Everyone stood as Guinevere walked up the long carpet to the dais.

She was not what Mithian had expected, this blacksmith's daughter. For starters, she wasn't blonde. But as she saw Arthur take her hands and lift her up to stand beside him, glowing with happiness, she realized that this Guinevere was more beautiful than anything she could have imagined. She was real, and her laughter when Arthur leaned over to whisper in her ear was pure and sweet as honey.

The crown looked well on her.

* * *

Later, in the high four-poster bed of her guest room, Mithian pulled the coverlets up around her and smiled hard enough her face hurt. The fairy tale story she'd invented for Arthur and his Queen had ended just as it was meant to in the very beginning.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Or not.


	2. What we Want

**Here is le chapter 2! It's shorter than the other one, but, ironically, more stuff happens than in Chapter 1. Forgive me in advance I'm don't stay true to the legends.**

**Forgot le Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, if I did, this stuff would be happening in a script, not a fanfic. **

**Enjoy Evil!Morgana and Cenred!Lot, if possible. Next chapter will probably bring Gwaine into the picture. **

* * *

**When You're Ready**

"But –"

Her eyes flashed and she pushed her hands out to the sides. Both guards fell back against the stone while Morgana, her eyes green again, shook her head.

She pushed the doors open.

The hall was long and dark. A fire burned at the end, the only light in the room on the throne where the king lounged, a goblet of wine tilted in his hand. She was instantly reminded of Cenred, but she'd heard other reports of this king. That he was a wry tactician and wouldn't fight unless he was sure to win. That he indulged himself in whatever he wanted and he would use any means to get it.

What he wanted was her brother's kingdom.

"Lot of Essetir!"

The king tilted his head at Morgana, pausing a while before speaking. "So you are the sorceress who defeated my guards." His voice was silky and self-assured.

"I come as an ally in your war on Camelot."

"And you destroy my guards?" He sounded amused.

Morgana smiled. It was glinting and sharp as broken glass, and Lot was cutting himself. "That is only the _beginning _of what I can do."

Lot smirked back.

* * *

"Good morning, Sire. Congratulations, Your Majesty."

"Gwen. Please, call me Gwen." The Queen seemed nervous with all the attention on her. She grinned shyly at Mithian over her breakfast. The princess was surprised that the Queen – Gwen – would be this kind to her given the talk that she herself would have been the better match. She nodded.

"Gwen."

"Thank you… Mithian?"

She smiled. Perhaps in time Gwen could be more than an ally. The Queen seemed in desperate need of a friend.

"Mithian?" It was Arthur.

"Yes, Sire?"

"Could you do me a favor?"

She was shocked that he should ask. "Of course."

Arthur shot a look at Merlin, who was serving wine to one of the lords. "Hear that? _Of course._" He turned back to the smiling Mithian. "I was wondering if you could check on the tonic I ordered from Gaius. Guinevere has a headache" – Gwen shoved him reproachfully – "and I was wondering if it was finished yet."

"Of course," she said, and left them to another round of bickering.

* * *

"Surely you don't want me to torch your brother's kingdom, Morgana Pendragon?"

Morgana laughed harshly. "Leave a little piece for me to rule, if you please."

Lot leaned forward. "This is a matter of contention for me, _Morgana_." He seemed to enjoy saying her name. "You see, I am risking my soldiers and my security only to put Arthur's sister on the throne."

"I offered you lands, an alliance."

"Morgana, I am not a fool. I've heard the stories." His eyes glinted. "I know how Cenred died."

"And _I _am not my sister." It pained her to scorn Morgause's memory like that, but what of it? She must be convincing. "_I_ would keep my word."

Chuckling, Lot sipped his wine. "You'd be a fool to do so." He set the goblet down with a satisfying _click. _"I'd be a fool to believe you."

Morgana twisted her lips in mild frustration, but she couldn't blame him. Damn it, he was right.

"I'm a greedy man, Morgana. I don't want lands in Camelot. I don't want half of Camelot. I want all of it."

She raised her eyebrows and pouted a little, as if his observations were interesting but she really couldn't care less.

"There is a way," Lot went on, his dark eyes intent, "that we could both find what we wanted…"


	3. Helpless

**Short, nonetheless important chapter introducing...Gaius! Tell me if you think he's OOC. But I like to imagine he sees all the knights and Arthur and Gwen and (duh) Merlin as sort of his children, so...oh whatever. Just read it and see. Oh yeah, it's also introducing...Morgana's 1,563.9th Evil Plan! (trademark, copyright, etc.) No snakes. Please review.**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Merlin. Uh uh. Definitely not me.**

**Important Disclaimer: The expression "Sweet Camelot" is in The Secrets We Keep by Feste the Fool. Definitely not me. Even if I say it all the time at home and drive my family crazy...  
**

**When You're Ready**

It wasn't hard to find the physician's chambers. She'd been there before, when she made excuses for lingering after the feast. Mithian knocked quietly. The hallway was chilly and she wished for her lovely cloak, stuffed in an oak chest in her room.

Gaius opened the door, frowning. "What?"

She took a step back. "Arthur – His Majesty sent me to check on the headache tonic."

"He did?" Gaius considered. "Come on in then." As the door swung shut behind her, he said, "It's finished. Arthur should be happy." Then, "I know it's here somewhere…"

The physician rummaged through his piles of books and bottles and scraps of old parchment while Mithian took the time to glance around the room. She saw a dirty glass tank, a dusty lantern, a ripped paper with a single line of runes on it, a bubbling beaker, an empty green bottle with the label "Hemlock"…

Mithian looked up. Gaius was gone, probably off searching for his lost tonic. She noticed the half open door in the corner and glided over to it, the fabric of her dress rustling. She looked through –

And froze.

Gaius was there.

He was standing over Gwaine.

The knight was asleep. His eyes moved under his eyelids, and she saw his hands go rigid and relax again from something in a dream. There were bruises on his neck and a thick wad of bandages on his stomach poking out from under the blanket. His wrists were covered with red sores from manacles, and there was a cut over his eye that had been hidden by his hair.

Mithian had heard that Morgana had held some of the knights in Camelot – and Gaius – during her reign. But there was certain…protocol involved when dealing with prisoners of rank. Protocol that would apply to any Knight of Camelot.

And she had never imagined that one of the captured knights would be Gwaine. She had never connected the cocky, flirtatious rogue at the feast with the man sleeping on the cot.

He twisted in his sleep, his mouth moving soundlessly. Mithian was astounded at how – she searched for a word – _helpless_ he looked sleeping. Helpless and innocent.

Those were words that she'd thought would never describe Gwaine.

Sweet Camelot, what had Morgana _done_ to him?

Gaius cleared his throat, and she started. The physician grabbed the clear bottle on the table in one hand and her arm in the other, steering her out the door. Once outside, he closed it and turned to face her.

She opened her mouth, but he spoke first, looking Mithian in the eye as if trying to impress on her with the force of his gaze the importance of not taking what he was about to say lightly. "When Morgana took Camelot, he stayed behind to give Arthur time to escape." Gaius bit off the words crisply, giving each one significance. "Elyan blocked their retreat into the forest, and she tortured him to find out where they were."

She closed her eyes and opened them again. "And Gwaine?"

He glanced at the closed door. "Gwaine," he said. And again, softer, "Gwaine." Gaius looked up. "I think Morgana found Gwaine…amusing."

Mithian began to feel sick.

"She didn't feed us anything. He almost insulted her, but Elyan stopped him."

That was Gwaine, never able to keep his mouth shut.

"She made him fight her soldiers for our food. Again and again. He didn't have proper weapons. There were more and more of them."

Gaius stopped, out of breath, and turned away.

"It was my fault," she heard him whisper, the burst of words not meant for her ears. "He was doing it for me because of the food. They never stopped coming, there were too many of them. He always does it. He got himself hurt the first time I met him, because he saved Arthur's life. But she didn't give him a chance, he couldn't win. She always won in the end, and she's still winning. He dreams about it, and it's my fault."

Mithian swallowed and nodded. "Is he alright?" As soon as the words left her mouth she cursed herself for saying them. What a stupid thing to say. How ridiculous to ask if the man she'd just seen injured was alright.

He watched her, as if surprised she was still there, and spoke normally. "I don't think so. He collapsed as soon as Leon got him from the cell."

* * *

Morgana raised her eyebrows. "There is?"

"You know," Lot said casually, "you would make a lovely Queen of Essetir."

"Ah," she breathed. "So that's it. That's your plan." She had long considered Lot as an ally in the days after Morgause, but she had no intention of 'sharing' Camelot with him. If she could take Essetir too, though, she might finally have the army she needed to attack the kingdom.

There was one problem.

Camelot's siege tunnels were blocked, its watch doubled, and patrols sent to ensure none of Lot's men came over the border. And Lot's soldiers were limited. If they were to besiege the city, they would need to outnumber them by … Morgana checked its advantages in her head – the higher ground, the archers, that they could use the siege tunnels to attack her men from both sides … at least three to one.

Lot had no such force.

What, then, was her plan of action? Morgana sourly wished Morgause was with her. Morgause had always known what to do.

_Use the siege tunnels to attack her men from both sides…_ From both sides. Could she do that to Camelot?

The country to the east of the castle was Nemeth. It was weaker than Arthur's kingdom, and stronger than Essetir.

But she knew something that they didn't. And Essetir had Morgana Pendragon on their side.

"I will be the Queen of Essetir," she said smoothly, thinking _when you're dead_. "When I know that your country is strong enough to fight Arthur's." Morgana spat out his name, and Lot snorted, spreading his arms.

"Name your price."

"Capture Nemeth." Lot's eyes slid to the side. He was thinking. She stood and walked towards him, her sea-green eyes gleaming. "Capture Nemeth and I will see the strength of your forces. From Nemeth and Essetir we can take Camelot. If you take Nemeth," she said, bending lazily to pick up her wine, "you will be rewarded."

In the silence after he left she could hear Morgause's laughter drifting on the cold air.

* * *

**Just couldn't resist putting the Morgause reference in there. ^ ^ **

**See that? It's a review button! (gasp) Totally amazing. So, you could, you know, consider pressing it... something exciting might happen! Or explode! Or use your screen as a portal to enter Planet Earth from somewhere far-off and mysterious with chocolate raspberry cookies! Come on... **


	4. Of Ale, Poison and Inghean

**Sorry about the late chapter. I've been busy lately and very lazy. This one's longer than the others, but I'm pretty happy with it. See what you think ;) and yes, this will go somewhere eventually...**

**Fae**

* * *

Mithian woke up to fog and a cold dawn. For some reason she felt ridiculously happy.

At least, she felt ridiculously happy until she saw it_._ And groaned.

What was she going to do with _that_?

Without thinking, she pulled on a dress and left the room. _Why not?_

* * *

She found the way from her chambers fairly easily, skirting the courtyard and going down a couple flights of stairs. Mithian made it to the Great Hall where the maids were only just beginning to set up breakfast. She knew where to go from there.

There was a knock on the door to Gaius' rooms_. _

"Gaius?"

No answer.

"Gaius?"

Oh great. He wasn't there. She was about to leave when someone-who-was-definitely-_not_-Gaius spoke up. "Not here."

"Amazing," Mithian muttered, turning around.

"I agree. This is the work of sorcery."

When she came in Gwaine had his back to her. He was sitting with his feet propped up on Gaius' table and spinning a bottle of poison around in his hands, watching the green liquid splash down the sides.

"What are you _doing _with that?" Nothing had ever scared Mithian like the lazy, dangerous expression on Gwaine's face as he played with instant death.

He grinned, tossed it in the air, and caught it. "What, you'd stop me?" He didn't deny that he was considering it. _He didn't even deny it. _

"Yes!"

But Gwaine wasn't paying attention. He'd caught sight of what she was holding. It _was_ something likely to merit his attention.

A bottle of ale.

She watched his brown eyes find the bottle, narrow and look up at her. Feeling her face get hot, Mithian lifted her chin and found some words. Not the right ones, but they would do. "Merlin asked me to give it to you," she said, and stretched her arm out.

Gwaine watched her mischievously out of the corner of his eye. "You know that Merlin is Gaius' assistant, right?"

"Of course." She tried her best to look like the Duchess of Gedref, all arrogance and high manners to cover the mistake she knew she'd made. "What of it?"

He was standing up, hooking two of Gaius' wooden cups while he gestured vaguely with the other hand. "You do know Gaius is the pri – prat's physician?"

"I assume you're speaking of Arthur, Sovereign of Camelot and wielder of the Great Sword Excalibur? Yes."

Gwaine poured the ale into his mug, lifted it to her, and drank. "Don't tell me you're turning into a prat too." He took another gulp. "Gaius said I couldn't drink any of this stuff when I was 'recovering'. Damn it, he won't even let me get out of bed –"

Mithian sighed and put her head in her hands. She glanced cautiously up. Gwaine was back in his original pose with his feet on the table, trying not to laugh at her. Finally, her last resort: the truth. "Fine. Gwen – the Queen gave it to me and I thought you might like it." She added vehemently, "Believe me, if I'd known that you would – will you stop _laughing _at me?"

He laughed harder and then winced. Mithian winced too. There was an awkward silence while the noise of talking and clinking glasses came from down the hall. Apparently breakfast had started.

Gwaine took a breath and blew it out again. He grimaced as if in apology and offered her a cup.

She refrained from mentioning that she had only thought of giving it to him because she didn't like ale; she only drank mead or cider. The princess took the cup and didn't say anything.

"So…"

"Why are you back in Camelot?"

Mithian lifted her chin. "I got sent to represent Nemeth."

He snorted. "Must be running short on representatives then."

"We are, actually," she said, her words brisk and brittle. "My brother died a month ago." Now there was only one heir left. It was a serious loss for Nemeth, but it was also part of the reason she'd received many of her arrogant brother's second-son duties. Including coming to Camelot.

Glancing up at her, he looked down as if unsure what to say next. Then, somehow managing to make it sound unwilling, mocking and genuine all at once, he added, "Should I be sorry?"

"Well, he was a prat. But he was there."

The corner of Gwaine's mouth twitched up in a wry smile. "Tell me about the journey from Nemeth. I'm working on my courtly prattle. 'What a lovely gown you're wearing, Lady Dianna. And how was your trip? I agree, the roads are terrible. Any trouble with bandits? Glad to hear it. Wait, you said yes?'"

Mithian suppressed a giggle and sank into the chair opposite him. She knew he was trying to cover his earlier bitterness, and she appreciated it. "No bandits, I'm afraid, Sir Knight. It was rather uneventful. Should I put in a few witches and mysterious conversations to make it more exciting?"

He took another swallow of ale and grinned. "Why not?"

She eyed the amber liquid, swirled it around the cup, and sipped it tentatively. Could have been worse. "Well, we left Inghean about a week ago. You know, Inghean, that town on the west border…"

Gwaine flinched.

"What?"

"It's nothing. I've just been there before."

She studied her pale, long-fingered hands wrapped around the handle of the mug and waited. Neither of them said anything.

The door opened.

Gwaine spun around, the ale flying out of its cup as he reached with shaking hands for a sword that wasn't there. Mithian grabbed his arm. "It's Gaius. _Gwaine._ It's Gaius."

For a moment he stared at her wild-eyed and uncomprehending. Then nodded, slowly. "…Mithian."

He shouldn't call her that. Only Arthur called her that. Arthur and Gwen.

She smiled weakly. Gwaine crumpled back into his chair and rested his head on his hands.

As luck would have it, it was then that Mithian remembered Gwaine was supposed to be in bed, not drinking alcohol, and not sitting next to a suspicious-looking bottle of poison and an, if possible, even more suspicious-looking visiting princess.

"I – "

Gaius cut her off. "I'm sure you can explain. Just explain. Later."

She swallowed the rest of her words in a quick breath. Her hand made it halfway to her mouth before she realized what it was doing and sent it back to rest at her side. Blood was seeping through the side of Gwaine's shirt in blotchy red patterns. Her eyes went wide and she glanced at Gaius.

"He'll have broken open the scabs," he said, adding under his breath, "_again_." He looked over at Mithian. "I just have to put on fresh bandages. Don't worry yourself. He'll be fine."

She nodded and left as quickly as she could.

* * *

In Lot's castle, there was an old tower room with cracks in the windows where Morgana had stayed when Morgause was alive. Morgause herself had luxurious apartments in the main part of the castle, but Morgana had fallen in love with the room on sight. She didn't know why. It probably had something to do with the way she could get up every morning, look out the window at the Essetir sunrise spreading out before her, and pretend she could feel it all, all the tiny huts and forests and hills, under her hands. It might have been the dusty alcove in Camelot's library where she used to sit and read all the books she could find about magic, trying to find a way… she winced at the memory… a way to stop it. If there was a "cure" for the _evil_ she thought she'd been cursed with. Morgana clenched her fists. Uther had forced her to hide the magic that was truly a gift. He had made her powers seem like something to hide…something to be _ashamed _of.

It was not until Morgause that she had been introduced to a new world. A world of power, skill and free-falling drops. It was this power, this freedom that made her exhilarated, caught up in her promise and the determination she'd created from the wide-eyed, scared girl sitting up in her fine nightgown because she was afraid to go to sleep.

Morgana held high contempt for the girl's weakness. It was Uther's fault…as was her brother. She only called him "Arthur" when she was dreaming. Uther had ruined her brother, and her brother had ruined Gwen.

Sometimes she even went so far as to think that Uther had ruined her.

What did it matter when she had this power? When she could do what she pleased, and her enemies fled for cover? When one day very soon she would be on the throne of Camelot and feel that freedom, that triumph of standing on the battlements calling the shots?

If Morgause was beside her and smiling, as she had been, it would be perfect.

Books, scrolls and maps from the extensive (though completely unorganized) library of Cenred's predecessors had gradually made their way onto Morgana's worn wooden desk, the only furniture in the room except for a simple chair and a soft, velvet-blanketed bed.

Morgana also had a room in the vaults near the dungeons. It was made almost entirely of black marble and held the treasures of her sister's life: mysterious jewelry; a rough, clear scrying crystal; the silver-and-pearl diadem of a High Priestess; a charred piece of wood that had once been encrusted with gold leaf – Morgana knew it to come from the sanctuary of magic that had once been the Isle of the Blessed, and was fascinated by it when she first came.

She didn't often go into the black room. It was filled with Morgause. Lot had done her a favour (one that Cenred never would have) by giving her the keys to the vault. Though Morgana graciously accepted, she knew there was more to the offer than generosity. Lot wasn't able to power the keys. The black room could only be opened with magic.

She traced the border of Nemeth with her long fingers, then slowly unrolled the rest of the map. Albion spread out before her: the forest to the north of Camelot, the tunnels under the mountains, the castle of Fyrien, the valley of the Perilous Lands…and Camelot at the centre of it all, a tiny flag waving at the top of its battlements. Morgana smirked in triumph.

There was a knock on her door and she said "Come in" without bothering to check who it was. After the third time he opened her door when she wasn't expecting it, Morgana made Lot knock.

"Morgana." He bowed.

Morgana didn't look away from her maps. "Lot."

"Still working, I see? Have you found anything yet?"

Her mouth twitched in frustration. "I have everything I need." Finally, Morgana glanced up to meet his eyes with confident green ones. "All we need to decide is which town to attack after Inghean."

"Why would we attack Inghean, _Morgana_?" Lot leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. "It's the strongest manor they have on the border. Makes no sense."

Morgana smiled.

"Forgive me, but I speak frankly."

She shook her head, still smiling. When she spoke her voice was smooth, amused. "There is nothing to forgive."

"You are not a fool, Morgana Pendragon. What are you planning?"

"Let's just say we know something that they don't."

Lot nodded, taking gleeful note of the 'we' in her sentence. "And?"

"We are taking Inghean," Morgana said, savouring her victory, "because Inghean is going to surrender." She held up a hand to stop whatever he was going to say next. "Inghean is going to surrender because they're _on our side_."

The King raised his eyebrows.

"Do you know the Lady?" Morgana regarded him for a second. "No, I don't think you do." She slid a letter across the desk to where he stood. Lot picked it up, fingering the blue-wax seal: lilies.

"Meet the Lady of Inghean – mother of Anna, lady of the manor, intriguer, schemer and co-conspirator." Morgana's eyes glinted, her voice dry.

"Her name," she smirked, "is Lady Bertilak."

* * *

**Mwahahaha! I know it's not how it's supposed to go. But I always hated her character, so she's kinda...evil now. What the heck. It's fun to write. And wasn't she always like that? **

**(By the way, if you don't know what I'm talking about, please don't look it up. It's nice to be able to surprise at least someone.) **

**Please review! It makes me happy. (All right, you probably don't care about that.) It makes *Gwaine* happy. There you go! Review! :)**


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